


As wild as the moon asleep

by glossary



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bruising, Choking, F/M, Flash Fic, Non-consensual choking, Rare Pairings, Sexual Content, erotic asphyxiation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-05 12:47:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6705046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glossary/pseuds/glossary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As soon as Erica was aware of pain, she wished for someone to save her. These days it's easier to destroy herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As wild as the moon asleep

**Author's Note:**

> warnings at the end.  
> for the prompts _rare pair_ \+ _bruising/biting_.

As soon as Erica was aware of pain, she wished for someone to save her.

It was an artless daydream. Her body was her enemy – a battered thing that broke and tried to patch itself together. At night she’d sit on her bed and look at her knees, her ankles, her wrists – the softness of her belly. Her grandmother told her about Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf and Erica dreamed she got eaten, every night like clockwork, for two weeks straight: in her dreams she was the same as awake, twelve and fluffy-haired, sleepy-eyed, but leaner, stronger, lovelier. Her red cape was a wondrous thing. And she ran and ran and rain in the forest, feeling the wolf’s breath on the nape of her neck, its claws catching the skirt of her dress and pulling, pulling –

“That’s positively Freudian,” Peter told her. Erica had her underwear caught around her ankles, and her elbow was aching with the effort of holding herself up, but as he spoke he pushed slowly into her and she didn’t dare move. “Surely you noticed. Twelve’s young, but not stupid.”

“Can’t you be quiet for a minute?” Erica asked, leaning back so she could drape an arm over her eyes. “I’m trying to concentrate over here.”

Pleasure was never kind with Peter: he ripped it out of her like a savage god crushing a monster between its teeth – that shivery little _crunch_ , and then the sort of sticky warmth that felt like sickness. He made her pay for that snarky comment by ripping her knickers and driving himself into her as deeply as he could, so overwhelmingly close she felt bruised. She shut her eyes even as he leaned over her, but the memory of his face lingered like perfume: those fever-bright eyes and his fair hair pushed back, the dash of amusement around his mouth. His cheekbones were her favourite thing – something about that arrogant curve made her unspeakably excited, like a child thinking about petting a lion in the zoo.

He didn’t hurry the pace and instead kissed her breast. She became uncomfortably aware of the rasp of his jaw, the flashing pink pain of his tiny bites. Bruises bloomed and disappeared as quickly as he could make them.

The back of her knees was damp. Outside, a bird trilled once, and the warm golden light of sunset spilled through the window, illuminating the expanse of Peter’s bare back. Erica drew her nails over the smooth skin, to prove to herself she could do it – to prove her body could bear it. Peter swallow a rough purring sound that made every nerve ending in Erica’s body come alive in a blaze of sparks. The vulnerable spot at the base of her spine _ached_ , and so did her hips where Peter was grabbing her. Time stretched, impossibly elastic.

“What about now?” he spoke into her ear. “D’you dream about being the Big Bad Wolf, Erica? Is there somebody you wish you could eat up?”

Her heart betrayed her. It skipped a beat, and Peter gave a wild bark of laughter – he pulled her hips to accommodate her, and then slipped a finger inside her without pulling out. She twitched – he kissed her, taking advantage of her open gasping mouth, and she couldn’t breathe right and he began to fuck her faster and one of his hands closed around her throat. Heat spread over her like a blanket, slow and intense and bordering on painful. Her heart was beating so, so fast – she saw stars spreading over inky black and her spine trembled and he was breaking her and the first drop of fear darkened her light-hearted insolence –

 _Nobody is going to help me_. The realisation was like a bolt of lightning. Nobody knew where she was, and nobody knew what she was doing, and – would they even care? She gripped his wrist and tried to pull him back but Peter bared his teeth in a grin, drunk on power. It was not the first time he’d hurt her – werewolves could take quite a bit of punishment – but it was the first time she’d feared for her life – and still he kept fucking her, cruel. He was like a child plucking flowers to throw them into the river, just because it gave him pleasure to feel the delicate stems snapping…

Her body betrayed her. Her orgasm was like a wave – she tasted salt and copper – had she bitten her tongue? It felt like the moon calling her and ordering her to take off her skin, until the soft-as-peaches Erica fell and from the remains crawled a dangerous thing, an unlovely thing, a monstrous thing: the wolf.

(But it was what she wanted, wasn’t it? Wasn’t she strong?)

He let her go.

After they were done Erica curled up on her side, trembling – shuddering, almost, and still when he drew an invisible line on her back she lit up with pleasure. He opened the window before he left, and summer crept into the room, and Erica did not touch her lovely unmarked neck.

**Author's Note:**

> warnings: there's a portrayal of an unsafe sexual relationship - peter chokes erica without her consent, and she idly mentions it's not the first time he's hurt her, but it's not too explicit.


End file.
